Sixty-Two Dollars And Fifty Cents
by thatspicyseaflapflap
Summary: The one where Hal is depressed, saves a Bat, and along the way, finds a will he thought he lost.


**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing expect this plot, if Hal Jordan was mine he would be treated a lot better!**

**Hi guys! I'm Spice, and I usually operate on archive of our own, but I decided to give .net a shot! I'm sorry if any of my military description/content is inaccurate, I do not have a military background nor does anyone in my immediate family. This is all from google!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a city. In that city held a hero and many, many airplanes. It was a city of people, citizens who reach not only to the stars but to the edges of the galaxy. Planes soared over almost everyday, and the people possessed a certain will that made the city unconquerable.

The city had children, kids who went to school and learnt about space and their hero, Green Lantern.

Once upon a time, there was a hero. A caped crusader who sacrificed the black and gothiness for green and a ring. He faced foes from the sky above, took to the heavens as a city, _his _city, watched him soar.

Once upon a time, there was a city, and once upon a time there was an annihilation. Bombs dropped from the cities trusted skies, and massacred in the hundreds. Their hero, overpowered, trying his best to stop a mass grave in his city.

First, the mayor was blown to bits, then, the rest of the bombs fell like raindrops. The blew up schools, offices, police stations. The city had rivers of blood flowing in the streets, limp civilians floating along. And a defeated hero, who tried his best but learnt with the rest of the city that sometimes will alone is not strong enough.

Sometimes nothing is strong enough.

Once upon a time, there was a pilot. A pilot who flew planes to crash them, who wore green and leather and had a nephew. The pilot lived in a one-bedroom apartment on a military salary and took two minute cold showers.

The pilot was in the skies glowing green when his city fell. The pilot lived in a one-bedroom apartment with three living neighbors on his floor, the rest, dead.

The pilot had a nephew who went to school with thirty other children, simply because there wasn't any more alive.

Sometimes the pilot wondered if he should be the one dead instead of his city.

"Goddamnit!" As he peered down into the unusually crowded back alleys of Coast City, Hal Jordan couldn't help the expletives that slipped past his lips. "Oh come the fuck on!"

The Green Lantern saw a flash of a telltale red helmet, punctuated only by the cascade of gunfire that soon followed. The figure seemed to be faring adequately under the circumstances, especially because he was currently battling incredibly violent alien parasites that had been covering as overzealous Coast City mobsters. But 'under the circumstances' didn't mean much in a fight to death or defeat, and Hal was sure the mystery vigilante was not going to be above ground and breathing much longer.

"Bruce is going to kill me. Honest to God murder me." Hal muttered, and then proceeded to swoop down into the alley and, in the Red Hood's words, 'fuck things up'.

Hal was under the distinct impression that he would like Bat's undead ex-protégé.

Instead of saying that, he said: "you know, you're not _that _much younger than me," and punched a mobster in the nuts.

With the power of Hal's ring and the sheer ferocity of Red Hood's fighting style, the two crushed the alien invaders. Which left an enemy more terrifying: a territorial young vigilante.

"That was my fight! I was doing fine." The Hood growled, too close to Hal for his liking. In his experience, were like rabid dogs, it took a gentle touch to create a working relationship.

Hal never had a gentle touch.

"Look kid, your old Bats would kill my ass if he saw you were in a fight in my city. I'm not saving you, I'm saving _me_. You're welcome."

The Red Hood reached up, took off his helmet, and spat on him.

"Well, that was rude. I would ask if you treat Bats like that, but if you did I refuse to believe you wouldn't be dead." Red Hood just glared at him. Hal sighed and pulled out his phone. "I'm texting him right now, you know. Anything imperative you want ol' Bats to know?"

The domino's eyes widened, and the next thing Hal knew was two-hundred pounds of straight vigilante landing on top of his hand.

"Don't-don't text Bruce." The boy-because, honestly, this kid couldn't be much older than his late teens-was panting, a new desperation in his voice.

"Okay! Okay," Hal lightly pushed Hood's arm off of him, "I'm putting the phone down, okay? Calm down kid."

Hood shook as he stood, stumbling backwards as he searched for a wall. He slid down the cemente of a crumbling building. "I-thanks."

Hal was almost positive the kid was about to enter shock, but didn't have a fucking clue on how to prevent it.

He sighed. "Come on kid." And started walking out of the alley.

"W-wait, what?"

"I said '_come on _'," he tapped his foot impatiently, "can you get up kid?" Hood nodded, and stubbornly teetered on his feet, about to collapse. Hal looked at him once, and strode over under Hood's armpit, supporting him. "C'mon kid, gotta get you outta here before all the neighbors get home from grocery shopping."

Against his shoulder, Hal swore he felt Hood nod.

Hal Jordan was sure he made one hell of a sight.

It was seven pm on a Saturday, Hal-Green Lantern-was hauling a mystery vigilante (and not just any vigilante, one of _Batman's _vigilante children!) throughout the empty streets of Coast City, both bleeding. But, Coast City was relatively used to all of his alien craziness, so this may just be counted as normal.

The roads were empty despite it being rush hour, and Hal quickened their pace. When he reached his apartment, he let Hood balance against the side of the building as he de-transformed and fished out his key. The door to his building swung open as he prepared himself for their greatest foe: the stairs.

Hood and Hal took it one step at a time until the reached the eighth floor, each sweating and wishing that Hal's apartment had an elevator.

"C'mon Hood, just a little farther. We're almost there." Hal finally found grip on his door handle, turning it and pushing the door open. He was supporting most of Hood's weight at that point, and was ready to drop him onto his couch.

"Okay kid. What's wrong?" Hal could see a few cuts sluggishly bleeding, but was suspicious of a broken rib by the shallow way the kid was breathing.

"N-nothing."

"Bullshit." Hal walked over and unzipped the kids jacket. He walked over to his junk drawer and grabbed a pair of surgical scissors.

"You-you had those in your junk drawer?" Hood panted. Hal was almost certain the kid was having trouble breathing.

Hal shook his scissors at him. "Not all of us can have a mini-hospital in our basement."

"Hey, what-what are you doing with those?"

Hal grabbed some of the tight fabric, positioned his scissors, and sliced through the suit. "That, I'm doing that."

Hood stuck his tongue out at him, but let out a groan of pain when Hal started prodding at his ribs. The skin above was discolored, but Hal didn't feel any cracks. "Good news kid, you aren't at risk of popping a lung, but you've got some bruised ribs."

"So, I can leave?"

Hal gave him a look. "Oh hell no, you just aren't at risk of dying on my couch. Let's take a look at some of those cuts, shall we?"

The pair lapsed into silence as Hal methodically assessed the rest of Hood's injuries, occasionally stitching a few shut.

Hood randomly looked up at him in one of his stitching sessions. "My names Jason."

"What?"

"My names Jason. You can-you can call me Jason."

Hal paused. "Well, hello Jason. Pleasure to meet you. My names Hal."

"I already knew that."

"What?!"

"You kind of do a shit job at the whole 'secret identity' thing, Hal."

Hal just tted. "You don't count. You got your training from Daddy Bat's himself, kid."

Soon, they had finished. Hal pulled out his phone and started texting Dick Grayson.

"You know Dick's Nightwing?"

Hal just looked at him. "Duh, Dick is terrible at secret identities. I would be surprised if the entire league didn't know." He peered at his screen. "He says he'll be here 'in a flash', and is wondering if you want McDonalds."

Twenty minutes later, Dick Grayson and Wally West were seated in his apartment, munching on their Egg McMuffins.

"Thanks for taking care of Jason, Hal. I really appreciate it." Hal was choosing not to mention how he was chewing with his mouth open, and elected to just nod.

"You ready to go kid?"

Jason looked at him. "Thanks, I guess. Watch yourself."

"You too." And Hal's apartment was empty, the only evidence of another living being was a McDonald's wrapper sitting sadly on his floor.

When Hal was eight, he learnt what death means. He learnt what it meant to dress up in black and bury your father.

He also learnt what s food stamp was, and how little it did to keep a family of four fed. He was always hungry, and always alone. His mom started working overtime at the supermarket, to try and get enough for at least two of her children to eat.

Hal's mother is from Mexico, she immigrated when she was nineteen because of gang violence in her village. She could never afford to go to college, and kept trying to save up and bring her family over with her. She had no higher education and she was an immigrant, and no one would hire her.

Then, she met Hal's father, a young stud visiting home from his first tour. They 'got busy', and he left on his second deployment with a son on the way and a new girlfriend in his life. When he got back, they eloped, and had his second son. He left again, this time without a pregnant wife. He sent back paychecks and letters, and on his fourth time home, just before his final tour, him and Jessica birthed Hal Jordan, his final son for his final deployment.

The family never lived comfortably, but they lived. Just above the poverty line in a too tiny apartment.

Hal's dad died and he walked to the food bank for the first time. The lady handing out cans, Gloria, looked at him sadly and said, "things will get better."

They didn't. His brothers were never home and Hal stared at his sky and talked to Carol. They watched planes soar, and all Hal knew is that he wanted to be in the cockpit.

When he was twelve, he looked up the United States Air Force. He found the Air Force Academy, where he could learn to fly with no tuition.

The sky was calling his name.

Soon, it wasn't his brothers always gone but him. He worked hard in school, got academic honors and managed to weasel his way into Pre-Calculus in tenth grade and AP physics in eleventh. Hal was offered scholarships, teachers looked at him fondly, and sometimes surprised. He had gone from school troublemaker to model student in about a year.

He started running track, finding solace in his teammates as his stomach growled and his dreams soared. He ran after school and went to Ferris after practice. He found a gym that would give him a free membership as long as he cleaned the place. That was his life, school, track, Ferris, gym, sleep.

But, then his dreams sunk. He needed to take a college admissions test. College admissions tests cost money.

He didn't have money.

Whenever he looked at his mom, she would smile at him sadly. His life was going to waste, he needed to get to the Air Force Academy!

Hal Jordan was stuck on the ground.

After his dad died, Christmases were gloomy.

There was no tree, so the family of four wrapped themselves around a construction paper fern one of Hal's brothers made in the fourth grade. They opened candy bars and hugged their mom, as they tried to ignore the growling in their stomachs. It was the Jordan routine. Nothing was going to change so none of them got their hopes up.

One year, it changed. The Christmas of Hal's junior year, when both his brothers were home from college (both their on scholarships), there were five presents under the tree. Each opened their candy bar, wrapped in old newspaper, and watched eagerly as their mom picked up the last gift.

She handed it to him. "Merry Christmas, Hal."

In the newspaper lay sixty-two dollars and fifty cents. Enough for him to take the SAT.

The community had gotten together, as is mom asked Hal's track coach who sent word to the team. She asked Carol and her family, the gym owner, and his teachers. They scraped together sixty-two dollars and fifty cents.

Hal was going to fly.

Hal could fly, and did it jackshit for his city.

Back in Gotham, people whispered.

"_Remember Coast City?" _they would cry. "_Remember how they died?"_

Their televisions were sizzling to life, their news anchors and politicians all bowing their heads in remembrance for the once noble city.

It had almost been six months since the destruction.

Jason Todd sat on his couch, alive, staring at the wreckage of Hal's city.

Coast City had a football team, much like the rest of California. They were called the Creatures, and they were a shit team.

That didn't mean it hurt any less when they had to disband because all the players were dead.

"-expect you all to review the application and come back next week with an opinion. Meeting adjourned." Superman banged his gavel-a joke bought for him by Wally West-and the Founding members were off until next week.

Hal sat next to Barry, who was discreetly checking CCPD case updates on his phone throughout the entire meeting. He stood up, shuffled his papers together, and was looking forward to a day of gloomily crashing airplanes and then gloomily staring outside is apartment. Maybe go out to the place Guy bartends at and gloomily stare off into space there. He had options.

But his depressing evening evening plans were interrupted when Bats put his hand on Hal's shoulder, and the Green Lantern was sure his plans were about to be interrupted.

"Hal."

"What do you want Bruce?" He sighed, aware he wasn't going to like the answer.

"We need to talk about your city." Hal followed, because no one ever argues when Batman wants to talk about their city.

"So let me get this straight," Hal took a bite of his burger, looking across the booth at Bruce, "because my city was blown up, _your _crazy Gotham monsters have moved in and are starting a drug trade?"

"Yes."

"Which is _really _bad because they're working in gangs with the aliens that attack sometimes? So now the drug lords have alien drugs."

"Exactly."

Hal fell backwards on his seat. "Well shit."

"My sentiments exactly." Bruce leaned across the table. "I know you're not used to dealing with civilian and undercover crime. I'm willing to loan you one of my team to try and clean up the problem."

Hal laughed at him. "_Loan_ me? That's rich, Bats."

"I'm rich, this offer is not. I'm saying things how they are Hal and you're going to have to start taking this problem more seriously if you don't want mobsters in your streets soon."

Hal sobered up. "I know what I'm doing Bats, I don't need more of your circus children in my city."

"None of us want another city-wide attack on Coast, Hal."

He stood up. "Thanks for lunch Bruce. I-I appreciate it."

Hal left.

**The Daily Planet**

_**Is Coast City shaping up to becoming the new Gotham?**_

_By Lois Lane_

We all know Gotham. The gangs, the Bats, the endless violence and drug trades. Most people would look at Gotham and her polluted waters, her darkness, her prison, and decide they want nothing to do with the Bats city. Many would think no please could even get near the level of disaster Gotham is in, only held together by the heart of her people.

We all know Coast City. The home of the Lantern and a famed Air Force base. Coast has made some of the biggest discoveries in aerospace over the last decade. We all know how Coast City died, how its citizens were mercilessly slaughtered. We thought it could get no worse for its people.

But since the city is now empty, haunted by the ghosts of its people, the Gotham gangs have come out to play. Unfortunately for Coast City, it may be well on its way to becoming the West coast Gotham in drug trade, or even worse, being so close to Mexico borders they are at the perfect place for international drug trade. Coast City is….._Read More at .com_

When Hal was in the Air Force, he was in Iraq. He followed orders, he shot down drones and he shot down people.

He dropped bombs, just like the ones dropped on his city.

Right before he was discharged, Hal was shot down by an enemy aircraft. He doesn't know what he was hit with, and he doesn't want to, all he knows is that his plane shook and caught on fire and his leg was in the explosion and he could breathe. He pulled the trigger for the ejection seat, and he was flying and still not breathing.

Then he was falling. Down, down, down, back to earth and the cruel Iraqi sands. He was breathing and hyperventilating and there was a parachute and Hal was incredibly sure the worst part of flying was falling.

He hit the ground. It hurt. Hal hurt.

There was sand, mountains of sand. And just like the movies, he saw a group of men with guns running at him from over the horizon.

Hal Jordan was a Prisoner of War for two and a half weeks, declare MIA until he crawled out of the secret little base his captors had held him. He was flown back to the states, and honorably discharged a few days later.

Hal was in the hospital, he had to get surgery on his leg. His brothers were there, and so was his mom.

In the Air Force, he killed people. He dropped bombs. Sometimes he thinks his kidnapping was just penance for his duty.

Hal went home. He became the Green Lantern and his city was blown to pieces.

Sometimes he thinks that's penance for him being a hero.

Sometimes he wonders if the sixty-two dollars and fifty cents were worth it.

Sometimes he wonders if he was worth it.

Hal Jordan awoke at one-thirty in the morning to the sound of gunfire. Not a very fun noise to wake up to, if Hal did say so himself.

He quickly slipped on his ring, and flew out of an open window in his apartment.

In the middle of the street were two gangs, each wearing different colored bandanas, who were shooting the shit out of each other.

So Hal did what any hero would do, he flew in the middle of the gunfire and hoped his suit was bullet proof.

It was.

"Well, _shoot._" Green Lantern said. "Someone interrupted by beauty sleep!"

Hal flew around, bubbling people and tossing guns across the street

When the battle was over, Hal learned a civilian was caught in the crossfire and died.

Another of his city, dead.

Hal got home from Ferris one day to find Jason-_The Red Hood_-drinking beer on his couch.

"I don't think you're old enough to be drinking that."

He just looked at Hal, quirking an eyebrow. "It'll be our little secret."

Hal sat down next to Jason. "I died once." Jason took a swig of his beer.

"I heard."

"It sucked."

"I guessed."

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I died again." Jason looked at Hal. "It's really easy to guess how much better everyone would be if you just stopped existing."

"Yeah."

"There was a funeral."

"I know. I was there."

"Bruce never told you guys my name. It was easy to believe he forgot about me."

Hal took a drink of Jason's beer. "I was in the Air Force."

"Huh."

"I was a fighter pilot in Iraq. I got shot down and was a POW for two weeks."

"I'm sorry."

"People always are." Hal looked at Jason. "Does it hurt less being dead?"

"Yes."

"Is it better than being a live."

"No." Jason looked at Hal, and the two were looking at each other, two broken heroes in a broken city. "The secret of being alive is finding someone to live for."

Jason finished his beer, and he left.

When he was in the Air Force, his call name was Stud, because he was a young little shit and he flew like it. He made impossible maneuvers and always made time to talk to the ladies afterwords, who always made time to talk to him.

It was given to him by his Squadron. He would die for his Squadron.

Hal wonders if there's a difference between living and dying for someone.

Hal had a niece named Jane and a nephew named Howard. They were over at his apartment today.

They were both in elementary school, so barbies sat in toy trucks as the rolled around his living room. Hal loved them, he never wanted to leave them alone. He wouldn't die for them, though.

Maybe that's the difference, never leaving someone is living for them.

They had to leave anyways.

"We need you here in thirty minutes." Hal had been brushing his teeth when he got the call from Carol Ferris asking him to come in on a weekend. So Hal had finished brushing his teeth, took a three minute shower (military habits don't break easy), tripped over a hotwheels from the other day, and was on his way to Ferris Aircraft.

He met Carol outside. "We got a new plane for you to test." She gave him a hard look. "Try not to crash this one."

"I'll do my best."

Hal was in the locker room shrugging on his flight suit, debating if he should leave his ring or take it with him.

Just as he was about to leave, he slipped it into his pocket.

"How do the control's feel?" Carol had asked through the radio, as Hal was up in the air and in a cockpit.

"Okay, the steering is a little buggy. It's not very smooth."

"Okay, go up a little higher and go faster. We want to test the engines."

"Yes ma'am." Hal gently maneuvered the plane upwards, and upped the throttle. He was soaring, the engines working near their max.

Then he heard a weird noise.

"Carol, somethings wrong with the engines."

"What?"

"I hear something clicking, I think the engines-" And he was falling.

The worst part of flying was falling. There was no ejection seat this time.

"Hal? _Hal!?"_

He had to do something. He didn't want to die!

Hal Jordan didn't want to die. Green Lantern didn't want to die. Hal Jordan wanted to live for his niece and his nephew and for Jason Todd.

The ring! He had his ring in his pocket.

"Hal Jordan, _what is going on!?_"

He had the ring on his finger.

He hit the ground.

When Carol had ran out to Hal's crash site, all she saw was fire. The flames were bouncing up and down like deadly ballerina's, but she didn't see Hal.

"Hal!? Hal! Hal Jordan!?"

"You called?" Up behind her limbed a soot-covered, slightly burnt Hal Jordan, very alive if not worse for wear.

"Hal Jordan, you bastard! You better thank God you're alive otherwise I would've fired your ass!"

"Hey Carol," he gently hugged her, even as she swore at him, "I'm fine. I'm alive. We're okay." He laughed. "Oh, I'm alive."

She broke the hug. 'Why are you so happy? You just crashed a jet!"

He smiled at her. "I think I want to live, Carol. I think I want to live." And he ran off.

Weirdo.


End file.
